


Softly, quietly

by pinkish



Series: Suspended in Desire [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean notices Cas's underwear on a hunt and can't quite concentrate on anything else until he gets home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly, quietly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [euphemology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphemology/gifts).



> A/N This was going to be a quick panty drabble for sluttycas's birthday but I got carried away  
> Then I got extra carried away and wrote a prequel chapter.

He had to be seeing things.

Dean snuck a second look at Cas, who was crouched down on the ground outlining their plan in the dirt.

 _Nope._  Definitely _not seeing things._

That was absolutely a bit of lace peeking out from Cas's pants. His shirt rode up every time he stretched to point at something particularly important in his plan (which Dean really should be paying more attention to but...lace) and it exposed the lean lines of his lower back and granted anyone who happened to be staring at Cas's ass a peek at the pink material.

 _Fuck_.Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head to clear the haze of arousal that threatened to overwhelm him.

Sam cleared his throat, and Dean looked up to see Cas looking at him quizically and Sam hiding a smirk. They were waiting for him to respond to something one of them must have said.

"Um. Sorry, I was, uh, thinking," Dean shuffled awkwardly, making his way over to stand next to Sam. At least this way he wouldn't have a direct eyeline to... to Cas.

"Yeah," Sam raised an eyebrow, "I can see that."

Dean hoped that his embarrassed flush wasn't as obvious as it felt, and forced himself to pull his attention away from the _pink fucking panties_ Cas was wearing. He could think about them after they got rid of the -- the...monster they were supposed to kill ( _Fuckfuckfuck. Focus, Winchester!_ ).

*      *

Thankfully, Dean made it through the fight without getting too distracted, even if he did have the beginnings of a massive bruise developing on his shoulder. As they were walking back to the Impala, though, Dean couldn't help watch the material of Cas's pants as it stretched across his ass and rustled against the scratchy fabric underneath. Without the threat of a shapeshifter (he did eventually remember) to keep him occupied, Dean found it impossible not to imagine how Cas must feel in those panties.

He knew how _he'd_ feel wearing them, walking in them, and that was hot enough. But to think about Cas...

Cas reveling in the stretch of the fabric and the feel of the lace on his thighs was enough to send Dean's heartrate soaring.

And, um, other things. Driving home was gonna be a bitch.

*     *

Dean practically ran to his room once they got back to the bunker, mumbling something about crashing and his shoulder hurting that Sam definitely didn't believe and had Cas tilting his head.

He tore open his top drawer and dug in the back for his special underwear. His cock twitched when his fingers landed on the panties he was looking for: soft, satiny, with a frill of lace.

He was panting, he realized, and forced himself to breathe deeply. Now that he had his own room, he liked to take his time. He like to treat himself and make himself come slowly, with soft, gentle touches that quickened to an unforgiving pace when he was ready.

He stood back and forced himself to calm down, still clutching the panties tightly. He unbuckled his belt and lowered his jeans to the ground, stepping out of his boots and socks as he did. His shirt and boxers came off next, and he sat on the bed, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. He lifted one foot and slid first one leg then the other into the panties and slowly dragged them up to his thighs. He enjoyed this part almost as much as he enjoyed wearing them. He could feel the lace catch on the soft hairs on his legs and shivered at the sensation. He held the underwear just below his crotch for a moment, breathing deeply to feel the stretch and pull of the fabric as his muscles shifted. Then, he leaned back and levered his hips up so he could pull the panties over his now-heavy cock.

As he slowly released his hold on the waistband, he closed his eyes and pictured Cas, naked but for those pink panties, rubbing himself through the material, and it was more than he could handle. He wished that it was Cas's fingers, not his, trailing featherlight touches across the straining fabric, teasing him with barely-there pressure and swipes across the fabric that stretched over the dripping head of his cock. Suddenly, light touches weren't enough any more and he pressed harder, trapping his cock between his stomach and the damp satin. He started to stroke himself through his panties, enjoying the friction as much as the pressure. He moaned and dropped his other hand lower, underneath his balls, and tugged gently. Dean continued to rub at his cock, alternating between squeezing his length and rubbing his thumb over his head, imagining Cas doing the same. He was about to dip his hand under the satin when he heard a gasp and his eyes shot open.

"Dean." Cas was standing in the doorway, flushed and breathing hard.

 _Fuck_.

"Cas. Shit. I, uh, I ..." Dean couldn't finish his sentence, couldn't move, frozen beneath Cas's stare.

"I knocked, but you didn't reply. I was worried," Cas said as he shut the door and walked towards Dean. He kept eye contact, but walked slowly as though Dean were skittish. "I wanted to see if there was anything I could do for you, since you seemed out of sorts." He was at the foot of the bed now, his hand only inches away from Dean's leg, but he didn't reach for him. Instead, he dropped his eyes to where Dean's hand was still resting on his cock, "Is there?"

"W--what?" Dean finally gained control over his body and he started to shift away, desperate to hide his erection, or his face, or his entire self for the rest of eternity from the object of his fantasy, but Cas stilled him with a gentle touch on his thigh.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Dean?" He spoke slowly, punctuating the question a stroke of his finger against Dean's skin.

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and looked at Cas -- looked at his hand, which was slowly stroking his thigh, looked at his face, with flushed cheeks and blown pupils, and looked at his crotch, pants tented. 

"Yes," It was barely a whisper, but Cas heard and moved his hand up towards Dean's cock. 

He placed his fingers on the edge of the fabric and stroked gently at the lace, dipping his fingertips under briefly.

"Take off your pants, Cas," Dean's voice was rough with his arousal. Cas was mesmerised by the sight in front of him and was jolted out of his exploration of Dean's skin under lace and satin by Dean's hoarse command. "Please, Cas. I want to see."

He removed his fingers from under the lace, almost regretfully, but his breathing quickened as he undid his pants and dropped them to the floor. His hardness was trapped by the pink material, a small damp patch of pre-cum growing where the tip of his cock pressed against the fabric. He looked at Dean, waiting for...waiting for...

Dean shuddered when he realized that Cas was waiting for his next instruction. There was Cas, standing in front of him, waiting for Dean's orders. Waiting for Dean to tell him what to do, what to touch. Dean had to squeeze the base of his cock roughly to stop himself from coming right then. 

"Your shirt," Dean whispered once he'd gotten himself under control again, "Take it off."

Cas complied, never breaking eye contact. He brought his hand close to his cock, but stopped before he touched himself.

"Like this," Dean said as he began stroking himself again, just as he had when he'd imagined Cas before. He kept the pace slow. He wanted to savour the reality of Cas standing in front of him, rubbing himself through soft, pink fabric. He squeezed himself and watched as Cas mirrored his action. Cas nearly lost his balance as he shook with pleasure and he whimpered as he steadied himself with a hand on Dean's leg.

"Sit next to me, Cas."  
  
Again, Cas obeyed and dropped himself next to Dean on the bed. They both shifted back until they were leaning against the headboard, shoulders, hips, and thighs touching. Dean resumed his pattern of squeezing and stroking, relishing the small breaths and whimpers coming from the man next to him as Cas continued to copy his movements. He reached out with his left hand and tucked his fingers underneath the waistband of Cas's underwear, rubbing the soft material between his finger and his thumb before pulling the elastic back and letting it go with a light snap. 

Cas moaned and Dean thought he could die happy having heard that sound. Having  _made_  that sound come out of Cas's mouth. 

He put his fingers back under the waistband and left them there, rubbing gently against Cas's hip, and quickened his pace on his cock. He looked away from Cas's hand, which was matching his speed, and up to his face. 

"Cas," Dean breathed, "kiss me?"

He'd meant to make it an instruction, a command, but it came out as a question. Cas smiled, though, and leaned towards him to press his lips -- gently, softly-- against the hunter's. Before he pulled away, he brushed his tongue against the seam of Dean's lips and hummed contentedly. He shifted closer to Dean, rested his head on the hunter's shoulder, and closed his eyes. 

They stroked themselves together, spurred on by the sound of each other's shaky breathing, spurred on by their whimpers and moans.

"Please, Dean. Please."  
  
Cas didn't have to explain -- Dean knew exactly what he wanted and grunted his assent as he reached his hand inside his panties, finally touching his own skin.

Neither took off their underwear as they quickened their pace. He watched as Cas's hand disappeared under the pink cotton and marvelled at the way the panties stretched and moved over his knuckles. Soon, Dean felt heat pooling tightly in his belly and judging from Cas's laboured breathing, he knew Cas was getting close as well

"Fuck, Cas, you're so fucking sexy," Dean whispered, "Come for me."  
  
Ever-obedient -- at least when it came to sex -- Cas did just that, grunting as he tensed and the sound was exactly what Dean needed. He came with one last swipe of his thumb and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of the angel's heat next to him. After a few seconds, he removed his hand from under his panties, breath hitching when the damp fabric hit his now-sensitive cock. 

He opened his eyes when he felt Cas lift his head from Dean's shoulder and suffered a brief moment of panic. Would Cas leave, now? Had he pushed too far? What if Cas didn't want to do that again? What if he didn't want Dean...?

But Cas must have seen the thoughts flicker across Dean's face, because he smiled and pressed another kiss to Dean's lips, just as gentle as the first. This time, it was Dean who opened his mouth to lick at Cas's lips. He sucked Cas's lower lip into his mouth, caught it between his teeth and was rewarded with another quiet hum as Cas pulled back.

"Dean," Cas's breath ghosted across Dean's lips, "I am not going anywhere." He shifted, grabbing his shirt from the floor where he'd dropped it and cleaned the come from Dean's stomach, then his own. When he leaned back, he wormed himself under Dean's arm and snaked his arms around Dean's waist. "I'm here."

Dean shivered and pulled the angel closer, breathing in his scent and shutting his eyes against tears that threatened to fall. 

"Cas..."  
  
"I know."


End file.
